


evening came and (unfortunately) morning followed

by avalonjoan



Series: Henrietta: without magic, with medical careers [18]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, College Student Adam Parrish, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Graduation, Hangover, M/M, Nausea, Off screen, Paramedic Ronan Lynch, Platonic Cuddling, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 20:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonjoan/pseuds/avalonjoan
Summary: "Adam, how do you take your coffee?”“Milk and sugar, please.”“Like your men, I see. Pale and sweet.” Henry proceeded to spoon an egregious amount of sugar into both mugs and splash some milk into one before joining Adam and Ronan at the table.--Adam graduates from college and the squad celebrates, perhaps a little too much.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: Henrietta: without magic, with medical careers [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971451
Comments: 14
Kudos: 94





	evening came and (unfortunately) morning followed

Adam was already mostly awake when he heard Ronan groaning behind him. As he rolled over, he saw that Ronan had curled up on himself and drawn the covers over his head; Adam tugged the blanket down just enough to see a sliver of Ronan’s face. “Not doing so hot?”

“Everything hurts.” Ronan opened one eye momentarily, then squeezed it shut and burrowed further under the blanket.

“Everything?”

He made a pitiful sound of affirmation, but then clarified, “Mostly my head. And my stomach. My shoulder, for some reason.”

Rubbing his hand over the bony prominence of Ronan’s hip, Adam couldn’t help but smile. “Do you remember trying to climb the big oak with Gansey?”

“I remember everything, I just don’t remember hurting myself doing it.” Ronan rolled his shoulder, hissing out a breath. “Fuck. How are you feeling?”

Adam shrugged. “Not as bad as you by a long shot. Just a headache.”

“Lucky bastard.”

Of course, luck had little to do with it; they both knew that Adam never drank enough to end up in Ronan’s state. While he  _ had _ consumed an entire bottle of champagne by himself, it was over the course of the entire afternoon and evening, whereas Ronan and Blue had split and finished a bottle within an hour of her arrival. Adam didn’t mind being tipsy while the others were distinctly drunk, and besides, it was important to have someone cataloguing the night’s events.

The highlights (besides the tree-climbing contest that Ronan had obviously won, seeing as how he grew up climbing that tree): everyone trying to shove the word “graduation” into the happy birthday song while Ronan settled a plastic tiara on Adam’s head. All their clothes in a pile on the grass while they splashed around in the makeshift pool that Ronan had dug in the yard. All their clothes getting soaked after Blue did a cannonball, resulting in a naked sprint back to the house to dry off after. (Well, naked minus Gansey, who had, in true Gansey form, kept his boxers on for swimming.) Ronan smearing cake frosting on Adam’s cheek and licking it off while Noah looked away and Henry laughed. Everyone, there, celebrating Adam Parrish, Bachelor of the Arts.

“I’m gonna get some ibuprofen and see about breakfast,” Adam said, sliding out from under the covers, careful not to expose Ronan to the sunlight again. “Do you—”

The blanket shifted, Ronan shaking his head underneath. “I’ll be lucky if I can manage water in this state.”

Pressing a kiss to his fingers and then touching them to Ronan’s head, Adam nodded. “Sorry, honey. Feel better.”

A shrug. “It’s my own fault.” His hand slid out from under the covers, making a gesture of brushing something away. “Go. I’ll be down when I’m not dying.”

Adam trailed his hand down, momentarily linking fingers with Ronan’s and squeezing gently. He let go, pulled on a pair of pajama pants, and grabbed his phone, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. Avoiding the steps that he knew creaked, he went downstairs, surprised to find Henry already moving about the kitchen. His hair was in its usual state of perfectly gelled spikes, and Adam tried to remember if it had stayed that way even after swimming.

“Ah, the guest of honor awakens!” Henry was opening and closing cabinets, but glanced over to Adam and smiled, although there was a touch of exasperation in his eyes. “You wouldn’t, by any chance, have a clue where the coffee is? I’ve looked in all the places a normal person would keep it, but—”

“But this is Ronan’s kitchen,” Adam finished, going to the pantry and taking out an unlabeled canister from behind a jar of pickles. He handed it to Henry, who dumped an unmeasured amount into the filter basket of the coffee machine and turned it on. The cake from the night before was still on the counter, and Adam wasn’t about to wait for everyone else to be up to eat. Retrieving two plates from the cupboard, he cut himself a slice and then held the knife out toward Henry.

Henry accepted the knife and scooped up a frosting rose, sliding it off with his teeth and then speaking through the mouthful. “This is why you’re the first of us to graduate, AP.” He swallowed. “Cake for breakfast is a sign of supreme intelligence.”

“Ronan was the first to graduate, actually.” He’d gotten his associate degree midway through Adam’s junior year, but the festivities had been different: dinner in the city, suits and ties, with Blue and Gansey and Declan and Matthew. While Adam had certainly worked hard to finish college, it still felt like the completion of the inevitable, with the celebration taking the tone of ‘Hooray! You made it!’ But Ronan’s was reverent; he’d almost dropped out of high school more times than anyone could count, but here he was, having carved out his own path and come out thriving.

Tilting the knife tip toward Adam, Henry bowed his head. “Fair, fair. We should set aside a slice for him.”

Adam snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be up to eating anytime soon.”

“You are absolutely fucking right about that.” Ronan shuffled into the kitchen and sat at the table, dropping forward to rest his head in his hands; Adam sat beside him and gently kissed his injured shoulder. “I’m dying.”

The coffee maker beeped and Henry poured mugs for himself and Adam. “You’ll make an exquisite corpse. People will flock to this very house to pay their respects. Effigies will be erected in your honor. Adam, how do you take your coffee?”

“Milk and sugar, please.” 

“Like your men, I see. Pale and sweet.” Henry proceeded to spoon an egregious amount of sugar into both mugs and splash some milk into one before joining Adam and Ronan at the table. He slid a mug to Adam and continued, “Legend will have it that anyone who gazes upon your perfectly preserved remains will be blessed with the gift of wit and an absolutely massive—”

“Henry,” Ronan said through gritted teeth.

“Hm?” Henry didn’t look up from swirling a figure-eight in his coffee, the metal clinking against the ceramic with every movement.

“I’m gonna throw up if you keep talking.”

“Ah.” Miming zipping his lips, twisting a lock, and tossing the key over his shoulder, Henry met Adam’s gaze and raised his eyebrows.

After debating it for a moment, Adam put his hand on Ronan’s back, smoothing circles over his shirt. Ronan let out an appreciative hum, but a few seconds later suddenly pushed his chair back and walked toward the bathroom. The door slammed shut, and Adam asked Henry a little too loudly if he wanted to get started making breakfast, just so that they had something to focus on besides the sound of Ronan retching. There had been discussion of pancakes, but they weren’t going to make themselves.

Henry pulled up a recipe on his phone and called out ingredients to Adam, who brought them from the cabinets and pantry to the kitchen counter. They’d started measuring out the flour when the bathroom door opened and Ronan returned, looking ashen and sweaty. The conversation stopped.

“You might as well keep talking--clearly my stomach doesn’t notice the difference.” Ronan dropped back into his chair; Henry shooed Adam toward the table, taking the measuring cup from his hands. “You were saying something about my massive cock, Henry?”

With an emphatic gesture that sent a cloud of flour hovering in front of him, Henry gasped and put a hand to his chest. “I was  _ going _ to say massive ego, but hey, we all saw it last night.”

Unable to argue, Adam sat beside Ronan and put an arm around his shoulders. “Better?”

Folding his arms on the table, Ronan leaned over so that his head rested near his elbow. “Not even slightly.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry.”

Adam resumed rubbing Ronan’s back. “About what?”

“This shit isn’t exactly cute at twenty-two.”

“Pretty sure this is expected at twenty-two. Thirty-two, definitely not cute.” He transitioned to gently scratching his nails over Ronan’s shoulder blades. “You sure you don’t wanna go back to bed?”

Shaking his head, Ronan’s reply was muffled against his arm. “Being hungover in my room while literally all our friends are over is too sad even for me.” He breathed in deeply, holding it for a few seconds before slowly blowing it out. “I’ll be okay.”

The griddle was just hot enough to cook on when Blue and Gansey joined them in the kitchen. If it weren’t for the fact that Gansey was wearing his glasses and that Blue had her hair down (meaning that it was held in place by two normal-looking clips instead of a dozen weird ones), they’d look like they didn’t get wildly drunk the night before. After Adam and Henry double-checked the recipe to make sure they didn’t forget anything--they’d almost forgotten the baking powder, with Henry catching the error at the last second--Adam ladled out a scoop of batter and gave a tired wave with his free hand. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” Gansey said, putting an arm around Blue. “Need any help?”

Adam shook his head. “I think Henry and I’ve got it under control. Y’all want coffee?”

“Please.” Blue took a step toward the coffee maker, but Henry waved her toward the kitchen table, saying he’d get it. She took the chair beside Ronan, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Hey there, sunshine.”

Squinting and scowling and overall scrunching his face up not-so-attractively, Ronan lifted his head, looked Blue over, and snarled, “Didn’t we go shot for shot last night?” Blue nodded, looking more than a little proud. “How the fuck do you look so good?”

“Because she exfoliates and moisturizes, Ronan, obviously,” Henry interjected, pouring two cups of coffee and setting them on the table for Blue and Gansey.

After taking a sip from hers, Blue cradled her mug in her hands and looked at Ronan, distinctly smug this time. “First of all, thank you, Henry.” She made a flourishing gesture toward her face; Henry gave a dramatic bow. “Second of all, while you were here being responsible and not drinking by yourself for the past four years, I was drinking way too much with these maniacs.” She drew a circle with her index finger, looping toward Gansey and Henry.

“Hey, hey.” Henry held up his hands, palms facing out defensively. “I had no part in building your tolerance, my dear Blue. I’m wise enough not to partake in such vices.”

Ronan had returned to resting his head on one folded arm, his other hand cupped over his ear, but this got him to sit up. “You can get off your high fucking horse, Cheng; having a whole package of weed gummies doesn’t make you better than us drunks.”

“‘High’ horse,” Gansey echoed under his breath, and Blue bumped him with her shoulder, mouth curled in a smile. 

Henry held up a finger in protest, swallowing his sip of coffee. “I had  _ most _ of a package of weed gummies. Noah had a few.”

“Speaking of which,” Gansey said, looking around, “Where is he?”

A miserable groan came from the living room, followed by Noah’s disembodied voice, “I’m dead.” He grumbled unintelligibly and then sat up, head poking up from the couch. “Seven beers.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Sargent had like, twice that.”

“It should be illegal to make sixteen-ounce cans of anything higher than like, 7% ABV.” Noah tried to get to his feet but dropped back onto the couch. “I’ll be decomposing here if anyone needs me.”

At the scrape of Ronan’s chair on the floor, Adam turned, expecting to see him bolting to the bathroom again. Instead, Ronan stood and joined Noah in the living room and, at least from what Adam could see, lay down on the floor next to the couch. There was a momentary argument about sharing of pillows and which blanket Ronan got to use, and then silence.

“My real secret, though,” Blue said, facing Adam but looking toward the living room, speaking louder than usual, “is the four milligrams of ondansetron that I took.”

“What the  _ fuck _ , Sargent?” Ronan was back on his feet in an instant, although he swayed and caught himself on the arm of the couch. “I’ve been languishing on the bathroom floor when you’ve had Zofran this whole time? Pass the dutchie, man.”

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a blister pack of pills; the fact that she had waited until now to give it to Ronan made Adam realize how well the two of them fit together. “You have to ask nicely.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, walking over with the blanket around his shoulders and standing as close to Blue as possible, so that she had to lean back a little to maintain eye contact. “If you’re in the mood to make someone beg, just take Gansey back to your room.”

Henry started coughing, as he was mid-sip, covering his mouth to keep from spitting coffee on the counter. Blue shoved Ronan, which did absolutely nothing. Gansey’s jaw dropped, and he stammered for a few syllables before giving up, which sent Adam’s head spinning with revelation. Noah groaned loud enough for them to hear from across the room. Adam got to his feet and pulled Ronan back, pushing him down into a chair before turning to Blue.

“Could you please,” he started, jaw clenched as he glanced to Ronan, “spare my idiot boyfriend some of your nausea drugs so that he doesn’t make any more accusations about any of our sex lives?”

“Please,” Gansey sighed.

Ronan doubled over laughing almost instantly.  
  


* * *

  
Everyone ended up on the grass, under the tree that was responsible for Ronan’s sore shoulder, enjoying the shade and the wind and each other. They were a lattice of bodies: Adam’s head on Ronan’s chest, Gansey’s a little ways down, resting on Ronan’s thighs. Wedged between then was Blue, her back pressed to Adam’s side, Gansey’s arm around her. Henry was on Gansey’s other side, too many people away for Adam to see, and Noah seemed to disappear and reappear in a different place every time Adam looked for him. There was always someone playing with Adam’s hair (usually Ronan, sometimes Noah) and occasionally he’d feel someone else touching him; Blue or Gansey--he couldn’t tell which one--saying hello with a hand on his thigh or gently squeezing his own. 

Ronan started laughing; his shirt had ridden up and Blue’s hair was tickling his waist. Pushing her away, he curled on his side and tugged his shirt down, then grabbed Adam and held him as a personal shield. 

“Feeling better, I take it?” Adam asked, also laughing, while Blue rolled over and straddled Gansey, tickling his sides as he protested.

“Enough.” Ronan reached around until he found Adam’s hand. “Feeling adequately celebrated?”

Adam looked around; Noah was cheering Blue on while Henry tried to pull her off of Gansey, who was honest-to-god giggling and squirming under Blue. He felt Ronan kissing his knuckles, and Adam shifted positions so that he could trace the fingers of his other hand down Ronan’s cheek. “More than enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and to the anonymous tumblr suggestion about hangovers!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at the same username and toss me an idea or prompt or vibe! I have so much real life stuff I need to procrastinate.


End file.
